


Thank You for Calling

by Clea2011



Category: Frasier (TV), Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Crossover, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-29
Updated: 2020-04-29
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:53:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23914117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clea2011/pseuds/Clea2011
Summary: Merlin tries calling Seattle's most famous psychiatrist.  It doesn't go well.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 15
Kudos: 53
Collections: Hurt/Comfort Bingo - Round 10





	Thank You for Calling

**Author's Note:**

> This piece of silliness was written as a fill for the Crossover April challenge on hc bingo. The square used was PTSD.   
> Apologies to anyone in either fandom as I don't even know how this came about - blame my friend Merls who came up with it after I'd spent weeks complaining that I really don't like crossovers and that I'd already used up all my crossover ideas in previous years.  
> Thanks to Cam, Wasp, Merls, LFB and Polo for all reading through and commenting encouragingly after I very rudely flung the fic at them all without even asking.

The Thursday night show was not going well. Frasier thought he might be getting a headache. The latest caller wasn’t helping.

“Well, Tom from Everett, what I would say to you is this. Your poor wife sounds as if she is an absolute _saint_ for putting up with you. No, it is not her wifely duty to wait on you all with beer and snacks whenever you decide to ‘have the boys round’ as you so quaintly put it. And yes she is quite entitled to go out with her own friends. In fact, Mrs Tom if you are listening please call the station as I can recommend an excellent divorce lawyer!”

Bulldog had been making approving gestures through the window the whole way through Tom’s call, but was now looking decidedly disgruntled. Roz, on the other hand, had been looking daggers at him but was now smiling widely and giving him the thumbs up. Just in case Frasier had been in any doubt that he was talking to an appalling Neanderthal.

“Thank you for your call,” Frasier added pleasantly as he cut the connection. He was nothing if not polite. “Roz, I think we have time for one more.

“Yes, Dr Crane. On line two we have Merlin from Glastonbury in Britain. He’s having problems”

“Britain!” Frasier mouthed, though when he took the call he kept up the calm, professional manner that he liked to project to his listeners. But really, Britain! And Glastonbury too, the place of classical legends. This was probably going to be the most cultured and intelligent call he’d ever received on the show. Niles would be absolutely spitting feathers with envy once he heard about it.

Assuming, of course, that this wasn’t going to turn out to be some lower class relation of Daphne’s.

“Hello Marvin, this is Dr Frasier Crane. And I must say what a pleasure it is to have someone on the show who hails from a land that spawned so many great works of literature over the centuries. I’m listening.”

The voice on the line was quite waspish in its reply. “Clearly you’re not, the woman who took the call told you _Merlin_. I’m Merlin.”

And, to be fair, Frasier had heard the name Merlin and simply supposed that Roz had made a mistake. She wasn’t terribly cultured after all.

But what had happened to that famous British politeness? Jane Austen would be spinning in her grave at such rudeness. Though of course Mr Darcy could be abrupt. Yes, obviously it was a Mr Darcy type on the line. Unless it really was a relative of Daphne’s… Frasier shuddered at the thought.

“You don’t know Daphne Moon by any chance? She’s our housekeeper. I suppose you people would say servant!” Frasier chuckled at his own little joke.

On the other end of the line, Merlin did not seem amused. “Not everyone in Britain knows everyone else. And we generally don’t have servants either.”

Oops. It wasn’t going terribly well. Frasier quickly and skilfully (he thought) steered the subject in another direction.

“So, Merlin from Glastonbury. Is that where you’re actually calling from right now, Merlin?”

“I’m on holiday in America at the moment. My friend Leon comes over here a lot. He says you’re a top psychiatrist and I should call you.”

Frasier preened himself a little at the praise. Of course, it was completely true, but it was good to be acknowledged. “Well, I do my best. What seems to be the problem, Merlin.”

“It’s just… I’ve been feeling really depressed and lonely ever since the man I loved died in my arms. I miss him so much. And I feel like it’s my fault he died.”

Yes, that would do it. A classic case of PTSD. One of Frasier’s many specialties. Merlin had definitely come to the right place. “I’m sorry to hear that, Merlin. Was this quite recent?”

“A thousand years ago,” Merlin told him sadly.

“I understand. It can seem like a very long time when you’ve lost someone dear to you. But Merlin, you can’t blame yourself, I’m sure that wouldn’t have been what your lover would have wanted. Don’t you think he would have hoped that you would go out and live a wonderful life for the both of you? He’d want you to be happy.”

“Maybe.”

“Definitely!” Frasier insisted, warming to his subject. Helping people felt so good. “And I’m sure his sad demise wasn’t your fault either. May I ask how the poor man died? If it isn’t too painful to speak of.”

It was a risky question given that Merlin had already mentioned the man dying in his arms. Hopefully the answer wasn’t going to involve some energetic sex act. You never knew with Frasier’s callers.

“He was stabbed in the chest in battle and I couldn’t save him.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, Merlin. One of the brave members of the armed forces. And you see, his death wasn’t your fault.”

“It was! I let myself get trapped in the crystal cave and by the time I got out it was too late.”

“I’m sorry?” Frasier once again thought that he must have misheard. “The crystal cave, is that some kind of euphemism?” _Please don’t let it be_ , he thought. This was not the sort of high-brow call he’d been hoping for.

“The birthplace of all magic.”

Right. Magic. Merlin. Hmm…

“I don’t think I caught the name of your boyfriend, Merlin?”

“Arthur. I miss Arthur so much…”

Arthur…

Merlin from Glastonbury, and _Arthur_.

God, this was worse than Daphne and her ridiculous psychic nonsense! Frasier wasn’t born yesterday. He recognised a wind-up when one came along. Roz was his first suspect. He glared at her and muted the call for a moment.

“Merlin and Arthur? Really, Roz, is that the best you can do?”

Roz just held her hands up defensively. “Not me. The guy just called the show. I can’t tell who the genuine callers are.”

Probably Niles then. Or Bulldog, he’d been lurking around outside. Yes, Bulldog was very likely the culprit. Or Lilith. Or… well, there was a long line of people who might have put this Merlin character up to calling him. Frasier unmuted the call and spoke to Merlin again.

“This Arthur of yours. Do you by any chance mean _King_ Arthur _Pendragon_?”

“Yes.”

“Really, _Merlin_? And just how is King Arthur doing? Still sleeping with his sister? Because that’s always an interesting psychiatric topic! Perhaps he could come on tomorrow night’s show?”

“Arthur never… he’s _dead!”_

“And I think we’re running out of time!” Frasier announced, cutting the call connection. “Thank you for your call _Merlin,_ or whatever your real name is. And thank you Bulldog or Niles, or whoever put him up to that. Well, that’s all the time we have for today. You’ve been listening to Dr Frasier Crane. And I’m the once and future psychiatrist because I’ll be back tomorrow. Goodnight, Seattle.”

Honestly, the level of caller was really going downhill.

\---

In his hotel room Merlin stared at his phone, then at the radio, then back at his phone.

Then he glared down at the newspaper advertisement that Leon had cut out for him. Dr Crane smiled smugly back at him from the page.

Could he look any more self-satisfied?

And what had that been about servants? Merlin glared down at the picture. He felt very sorry for whoever the poor housekeeper was, stuck with such a pompous arse. This Daphne had to be some kind of saint for putting up with him. 

Merlin had some experience of servitude. And the best way out of it that he had found was simple enough – falling in love. Yes, that had worked well for him. And if it didn’t these days then the divorce settlement from a successful radio show host would probably set Daphne up for life. That would serve Frasier right.

Merlin smiled to himself. His eyes briefly glowed molten gold as he cast a spell for requited love between Dr Crane and the hired help.

And then he crumpled the newspaper cutting into a ball, tossed it in the bin, and headed off down to the bar to find Leon.

Leon had been talking through his immortal backside as usual.

Top psychiatrist indeed. Useless. 

\---

(In fact of course the spell did work out very well in the end for Daphne and Dr Crane. It was just that Merlin never realised that there were two Dr Cranes…)

\-----


End file.
